I'm Always Alright
by FluffySpook
Summary: Harry, Ruth, and my good friend angst.
1. Chapter 1

_**Hello :)**_

_**I have about 8 unfinished fics floating around my laptop. How does one combat the dilemma? By starting a brand new fic of course :D **__**This is based the day after 9.8, when the enquiry hasn't quite commenced and little has changed Grid wise except – obviously – the departure of Lucas-John-North-Bateman. **_

_**It's one of those lonely evenings when the only two left on the Grid are the in infamous Harry and Ruth. WA-HEY. Enjoyyyyyy :)**_

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This time, she took it upon herself to knock on his door. There had always been the opportunity to form a joke from her inability to do so, but this time she felt a duty to start a more serious interaction right from the off. The whole Grid was locked in a state of despair. Jokes did not exist. They were to be formal and formal only. This time, with Harry, she was to knock because it was proper.

He looked up immediately from his desk, pen still in hand and offered an instant smile, albeit weak. She took it as permission to enter and closed the door behind her. Neither spoke before she was seated opposite.

As she did so - the flashback of Clive McTaggart smacked her. Harry alone and beginning to grieve in his office when she entered to ask of him. No tears had been shed that time but this time there had been, and she felt the pressure ignite, spying from the corner of the room. He watched, waiting for her to speak. When she didn't - eyes transfixed by the red and black forehead mark - he enquired.

"Everything alright?"

To which she met his gaze swiftly.

"Hm? Yes. Yes, fine with me. I just wanted to see how you were doing really."

He sighed.

"I've been better."

"Mm. Haven't we all."

"How's the team?" his path of vision briefly scanned the grey grid. Solemn faces, an atmosphere of desolation thick enough to slice.

"They're... coping," she replied, "We're all coping in our own way really, as usual. I'm surprised how quiet Tariq is."

Harry nodded. "Jo was the first one he lost. Then Ros. Lucas is only the third; he's not used to it. Sometimes I think he wont last another year." At that, he stood heavily as if struggling against an increased weight on his shoulders and padded over to the all familiar drinks cabinet. "Drink?"

Ruth made a point of sighing loudly as he began to pour for himself.

"No thanks. You wont find a solution in the bottom of a tumbler Harry, come on."

"You think I don't know that."

"W-"

"Solution to what, by the way?"

The words were sharper than he foresaw, and sharper than she was prepared for. Slightly taken aback, she stiffened when he turned round and perched on the edge of his desk waiting for her response.

"A solution to the grief and guilt you feel thrust upon you every time we lose an officer to the service. For an MI5 head, your face is surprisingly easy to read tonight."

He chuckled and took a mouthful of the liquid, "You know me too well."

"Sometimes," she dipped, "I wish I could know you more than I already do, actually."

"Oh?"

Frustrated by the fact that their conversation had already entered 'dangerous territory', she began twiddling with her skirt and stared with a frown at the floor. "It might sound stupid but sometimes I..." she almost stopped under his intense stare. "I... just can't work you out. I mean, obviously now we can all see you're grieving. But sometimes I look at you and wander if I'm just seeing what I want to see."

"Which is?"

"An untroubled soul."

"That's very Wuthering Heights."

She laughed gently as he took another mouthful and finished the drink. It was true - no solution lay at the bottom of the glass.

"What I'm saying is," she pursued, "I want to offer myself to you, for support, as a friend and not a colleague. Because you're strong - everyone knows that - but I don't believe you're unbreakable. You once said to me that you understood the emotional side of our job; self control, self denial. Sometimes I think you're denying yourself the urge to open up."

The three replies he could have given streamed across his expression too quickly for her to comprehend. He stood, promptly.

"I _did_ open myself up to you once Ruth, remember. And you turned me away. Why do you want me to pour my heart out to you all over again? What makes today any different from before?"

"Harry, I just... I don't..."

"I know that I could tell you anything and everything in confidence. But right now I don't want to. Maybe I'll never want to. If you care for me so much, why didn't you say yes?"

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_**Fail or ok? A review would be marvellous if you have the time. **_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Thank you for the responses; it was surprising and really boosted my confidence. Thank you!**_

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"Harry this isn't a bloody interrogation! I just wanted to see if you were alright!"

He glared. "I'm always alright."

And there it was; the lie that formed the truth.

Beginning from the moment the first death hit, he had forced himself to believe nothing could ever shift him. The army had taught him to put on a cold face to everything. The only thing that ever came close to dissolving that was Ruth. Because the truth was, he was never alright. And the lie was pretending the opposite. He had lived this lie for so long the line distinguishing the other was blurred beyond any recognition.

She said nothing when she realised how logical and cynical the explanation was. That was who Harry Pearce stood as, and he wasn't going to change.

Slowly, silently, she stood and walked to the door.

"Ruth?"

There she waited but did not turn around - white knuckles on its handle.

"Where are you going?" he asked with a softer voice and stood from his desk.

"Home."

The 'whoosh' sounded and she stepped out, broken. Again he was reduced to silence with nothing but a headache and her voice quashing his own. Now where?

"Ruth - wait!"

She didn't. She marched to her desk and picked up her coat and bag to leave. On reaching the pods he placed himself directly in front of her and using his greater frame, forced her to halt. Eyes fierce, she pushed one hand to his shoulder and tried to move him but he remained anchored and clutched her shoulders.

"I'm sorry, ok?" he pleaded, stooping to meet her eye line, closer. "I'm sorry."

"Do you even know what you're apologising for?"

"For being callous again." He frowned, gritted teeth. "My friend is dead, the woman I love despises me a-"

"Stop referring to me as an external character. Just say _'you'_."

He paused, momentarily bewildered.

"You hate me."

"Actually, Harry, I don't." She stepped back and his hands fell away along with the aggravation and control he didn't deserve. "I object to your attitude towards your emotions, and I dislike your presumptions, but I don't hate you. I've never hated you and I never will. I didn't say yes to you because I was... absolutely terrified of what it would mean for us and our job. The fact that you gave Albany to the Chinese actually frightens me more; the things you'll do for love even though you were almost certain I wouldn't leap into your arms afterwards. You say you're always alright but I know for a fact that you're not! Am I _really _the only person that can make everything ok?"

He swallowed the lump stitched in his throat. "...yes."

"Then you need to look at what happened to Lucas. He risked everything for Maya. The entire Albany affair was based around his desire to make everything okay for them. If you do the same – if you marry me – aren't you terrified about what could happen afterwards? Marrying me won't make everything easier."

"Yes it will. It will Ruth... please." He stepped one foot forward, "_Please_."

Her breath caught in her throat like skin on a thorn. Nothing moved, not even their eyes before she realised he was not desperate - not entirely - just confused, wounded and alone. Thus his insistence was more a sign of his years spent trying to overcome the relentless hardship MI5 created, not simply a result of exasperation. Maybe it _did_ sound desperate, maybe part of him needed it to be so in order for her to yield to his plea. Whatever was passing through his mind in that moment, it was obliterated when she pressed her lips against his.

She tried to search for a reason in kissing him. She failed, and felt embarrassed, because she was acting against everything she had just stated. He knew it as well as she did and yet, suddenly everything appeared clearer.

When they parted she was hot, breathless almost and wanted to keep her eyes dipped as to avoid his stunned and exhilarated expression. Furiously she fought but he cupped her cheek in one hand, saying nothing. A moment later her hand was on his chest.

"Harry..." the words escaped in a whisper, "Harry, I didn't... I erm, I don't know what I..."

But the sentence fell because it had no ending. He smiled, though she refused his eyes.

"Ruth, when the enquiry starts there's every chance I'm going to loose my job, which ultimately means losing you. I understand this isn't the best of times to me making drastic decisions or declarations but if you don't come with me now there's s chance I'll never see you again. They'll enforce our separation if you work for the service and I don't. What you said was right; I'm frightened by what marriage has the potential for because of our profession. Adam and Fiona. But at the same time, don't you think it's worth the risk? Why do we have to even see it as a risk? I love you and I'm adamant you love me too. Isn't that enough?"

He was almost out of breath. She didn't even speak, just swallowed, and nodded.

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_**Awkward place to cut off. There'll be more soon. **_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Last bit. Thank you to absolutely everyone who has read, and especially to those who have reviewed. **_

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He kissed her, a nervous large hand slipping around to her back as he did so. Gingerly, her own fingers slid around his waist as she pulled him closer, never really believing anything was real. The surroundings didn't fade entirely, they just became a soft blur. The world changed when their bodies pressed together and she felt his tongue tease against her teeth. He pulled away.

"Are you okay?" he asked with a dusted not fully-formed smile.

"I'm more than okay," she squeezed her arms around his bulk, almost on tip toes. "Can we go home?"

He squinted '_we'_ ?

"We?"

"Yes – you and I. Home. Your house or mine, I don't care. I was wrong and you were right; I'm in love with you and it's worth the risk Harry."

They left, hand in hand, and little else was said.

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_- EPILOUGE -_

"It's strange," Beth didn't shift her keen eyes from the brunette that was faffing around the kitchen in an attempt to make coffee. Ruth, head in the fridge, asked,

"What's strange?"

"You. And your... mood," Beth replied a little cautiously, still propped up by the doorframe as she watched. "I thought that after Harry left you'd... er, I'm not really sure how to put it."

"You thought I'd what?" she opened the dishwasher in search of mugs. "Fall to bits? Cry? Isolate myself?"

"Well - um, erm, I wasn't going to put it to that extreme."

"Ha."

"I just thought you'd be little more upset than you are."

Ruth pulled her head out of the dishwasher, mug in hand triumphant, and smiled bashfully.

"This is probably a good time to tell you then."

Beth shot straight with wide eyes.

"Tell me what?"

There was a brief pause as Ruth thumbed the china mug handle. With a slightly bitten lip, she mumbled, "Harry and I are together now." Beth's face, quite literally, lit up. "I don't go to choir every Thursday," she admitted struggling to quash a smile, "...or to visit my mum for long weekends."

Initially gobsmacked Beth remained frozen, disbelieving, jaw hitting the ground. When a laugh finally struck - she clapped.

"... You sly fox you!"

And before Ruth knew it, Beth had embraced her and was hugging her murmuring words of congratulations softly into her ear. Also, Ruth swore, many exclamations similar to '_I knew it! I knew it!_'

When they parted, little else was said. In fact little else was said anywhere. The fear of backstabbing never arose. She would shoot Harry a cheeky smile, and he her, on the Grid occasionally, and meet alone for the romantic moments sandwiched between heroic periods of saving the world on a day to day basis. They had both been wrong for too many years. The principle of being right – the step to make the kiss – was history. They were, as one, finally right.

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_**END.**_

_**[Not entirely happy with this fic, it might not be here for long. However, I am currently writing a much more entertaining fic which should be up.. shorty. And by shortly, I mean in the next 2 years]. :D**_


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